2012: The Beginning of the end
by BrownCoatFireflyCaptain
Summary: Bits of narrative coving the stories of three families and their involvement in the end of the world. This is a re-up of my previous 2012 story, I thought it would be more readable like this
1. Chapter 1:Alex Mulder

Alex

My name is Alex Mulder. At least I think that's it. I don't remember anything before eight years ago. The first thing I remember is waking up on the side of a road in Maryland, with a teenage girl hovering over me, calling for her mother. I couldn't remember my name or past.

The mother – whose name was Mara, by the way- said that she was a doctor and that I could trust her, but I didn't. When she tried to get me to a hospital I wouldn't let her. I don't know why I was so scared; I just knew it wasn't safe.

I got lucky as far as who found me was concerned. The doctor's daughter, Maya was a really good kid. I say _was_ because she's 27 now and even her kid brother, Jack is all grown up at 21. He's always been cool. But it was Maya who took care of me. Her mom was always so clinical. It's like she didn't care. That always bothered me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. When I was found, I had a little bullet scar in the middle of my forehead- don't ask, I honestly don't get it myself- and my left arm was missing. Mara says I'm lucky to have survived. Jack, ever the cynic, says that I didn't. Maya once told me that the man I once was is lying just beneath the surface, waiting to come out of the shadows.

I'm afraid she may be right. But I'm not sure I want her to be. I keep having these dreams. At least they started as dreams. Now they're nightmares that are becoming more and more vivid each night. They are making me remember. It was the dreams that brought the names 'Alex' and 'Mulder' to my mind in the first place. But like I said, these memories are too much, they're too painful. Last night I dreamed that I was in a forest some place. There were these men who were really dirty. I was freezing. Then I saw one of the men with a red hot knife. He was cutting into me, taking my arm.

Maya says it'll pass, but I don't believe her. I get this feeling that the nightmare has just begun. For everyone.


	2. Chapter 2: Maya

Maya

I've always had excellent instincts about people. When I six years old, I developed telepathic abilities. It was difficult for me to say the least. I was living in D.C., going to a crowded public school and had an ability I couldn't control. It was like trying to sleep at an AC/DC concert. The noise almost drove me insane. Actually, the school psychologists thought I was insane. I was labeled a delusional schizophrenic and sent to an institution on my eighth birthday.

When I was ten I started manifesting telekinetic capabilities. Problem was I could only do it when I was in solitary and didn't have to shut off that part of me in order to keep the noise out. Since I couldn't prove it, they assumed that I had taken a turn for the worst and doped me up even more. I remember having a group of orderlies and a doctor with a facemask on come into my room three times a day, pumping me full of the crap.

The damn drugs messed me up so badly that I was losing my sense of reality. I would see monsters in my room and try to fight them only to end up smashing my furniture. Not to mention my head and other parts of my body. I ended up in a straight jacket by the time I was eleven. At that point things got worse. My abilities got really erratic when I hit puberty.

One day this orderly got it in his head that he would take advantage of me. After all, I was in a straight jacket, had just hit puberty and since I was nuts no one would believe me if I said that someone raped me. That didn't work out very well for him. I guess he didn't realize the dangers of harming a telepathic telekinetic with major PMS. Like I said, my abilities were difficult to control.

The coroner said he had a stroke. Sure. Slight hitch though; when I fired his brain I overloaded mine and ended up in a coma. I was like that for just over a year. It's like one day your just minding your own business, then you fry someone's neurons and BAM!- you're twelve when you used to be eleven.

When I woke up, I couldn't move anything with my mind or sense other people's thoughts. Without the noise, they decided I was sane again. The docs chalked it up to their brilliance. Funny. Oh well…at least I was out of that asylum. It's ironic: asylum means refuge, haven, sanctuary. But for me it was my own personal Hell. At least I thought it was. Really it was just purgatory. Hell was still to come.

Anyways, I digress. When my mother came to take me home after my "release", she was so different. Or rather, indifferent. It was like she didn't give a rat's ass about me or what had happened. She just signed for me, drove me home and casually informed me that my father had had a massive heart attack about the same time I was turning that orderlies brain to split-pea soup. Seriously, who waltzes up to their severely traumatized twelve year old and says, "Oh yes, by the way, your father is dead. It happened the day you went into your coma." What the hell is that?! I should have slugged her. God knows I wanted to throughout the whole drive to Norman.


	3. Chapter 3: William

Wil

When I was a baby, my adoptive parents had a bunch of I.Q. tests done that said I some kind of wunderkind. In fact, I could read, write and do basic arithmetic when I was three years old. My parents have always been proud of that fact.

In my dreams I see the world that will be. I see the cities turned to rubble. I see the enemy ships soaring over head. I see my birth parents fighting a group of these alien invaders. There is another man next to them, fighting two of them at once, not an easy feat considering he's only got the one arm. I can't tell why he won't just shoot or stab them; he has a 9 millimeter in his holster and a k-bar in a sheath on his belt. One of them has what looks like a miniature ice pick in his hand. He's running towards my father. And then I wake up.

When I told my parents about the dream they were shocked that I somehow knew I was adopted. They had never told me before. They said that the Lord had somehow told me. When I asked them what they thought the rest of the dream meant, they just shrugged their shoulders and looked blankly at me.

I was born in 2001 and am currently ten years old. Last month, my family kicked me out of the house. They were afraid of me. They said that the devil had made me and that I couldn't be allowed in their house. You see, a month ago I woke up looking… different than I had the night before. Older, actually. A good ten years older.

At first, they thought I was some stranger who had kidnapped their son. But I managed to prove that I was the same boy by telling them things only someone in our family would know. I don't think they believed it until they had blood tests done that showed that I was the same person. That's when they kicked me out for being "evil."

But it's not my fault! I didn't want this to happen! I just wanted to be a normal kid. I didn't want to be super smart or twice my age. Now I'm stuck here at the shelter. I hate this place. Luckily, though, there aren't many people here as I live in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming.

I have to find someone to help me. Then again no one in their right mind would believe a word of my story. I just hope I can get wherever I need to go. I think I'll head southeast, towards Oklahoma. I hear it's nice there and has plenty of small towns where people can hide out. I might try Norman, where they have that university. I could probably get a job there. I'm "old enough" now and certainly smart enough. I just feel like I'm being led there, like I _have _to go. I hope I'm not just losing my mind.


End file.
